


i didn't just come here to dance (if you know what i mean)

by thisismydesignn



Category: We Are Your Friends (2015)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dancing, Inspired by a Trailer, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Rimming, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4588983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismydesignn/pseuds/thisismydesignn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>128 beats per minute. That's the magic number.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i didn't just come here to dance (if you know what i mean)

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from. That's a lie. [These pictures](http://www.laprensa.hn/csp/mediapool/sites/dt.common.streams.StreamServer.cls?STREAMOID=JR_BFUwnWt1RCzutqTiARc%24daE2N3K4ZzOUsqbU5sYti1TqrQpyO8YOt4Q%2478IUCWCsjLu883Ygn4B49Lvm9bPe2QeMKQdVeZmXF%249l%244uCZ8QDXhaHEp3rvzXRJFdy0KqPHLoMevcTLo3h8xh70Y6N_U_CryOsw6FTOdKL_jpQ-&CONTENTTYPE=image/jpeg) of Zac Efron and Wes Bentley appeared and I've been wanting this ever since, so I...watched the We Are Your Friends trailers ([1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aWkj2d7m1Zw)) ([2](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5n6mcSoRMak)) about a million times each and this happened. Somehow Emily ended up in there too. Who knows. I feel ridiculous for even posting this, but if someone else out there ends up enjoying it...excellent.
> 
> As usual: I apologize for the excessive run-ons and the utter lack of plot.

**125 bpm**.

"You're James Reed, right?"

Blue, _blue_ eyes meet Cole's, smoke curling from the man’s lips; James (it _is_ him) nods, holds out his hand, asks, "And you are?"

Cole takes his hand – a hand that's spun tracks he could only dream of – and tries to keep his cool. "Cole. Cole Carter. I'm a huge fan."

James smiles, just barely, like he's heard it a million times before. He probably has. "Thanks." He takes another drag off his cigarette, looks harder at Cole. "You opened for me tonight, didn't you?" Cole nods, can't think of a single thing to say, and he _never_  gets like this, what the hell is going on – "You spin here regularly?"

"Yeah," he manages, and that half-smile is back as James asks, "They pay you?" Cole drops his gaze, knows perfectly well that James already knows. "No."

James is still watching him. It's almost unnerving, but in a way that just makes Cole want to step closer. He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, is on the verge of saying something really stupid when James asks, "What are you doing Saturday?"

Cole hesitates. "Uh. Nothing? Yet," he adds quickly, because _way to sound like a loser,_ and then James is saying, "Come by my place at 11. A.M.," he clarifies before Cole can ask. He raises the cigarette to his mouth again, continues, "I'm throwing a party that afternoon. My girlfriend tells me I can't DJ my own party, so..." He shrugs. "You were good out there. Come by beforehand, let's really see what you can do."

Cole's speechless, staring dumbly as James takes another drag, asks, "What do you say?"

"Yes," he hears himself respond, doesn't stop to think, doesn't need to. "Yes, absolutely, I'll be there."

James grins, a real one this time. "Good." He pulls out his phone and hands it to Cole. "Put your number in there, I'll text you the address." Cole does as he's told, murmuring his thanks all the while. "You won't regret this," he promises as he passes the phone back, ignoring the spark in his gut when their fingers brush. "It'll be a party to remember."

There's something burning in James' eyes when he looks back at Cole, something mischievous and almost hungry. "I'm counting on it."

Cole feel desperate, like he wants to sink to his knees right here, right now, but he digs his nails into the palm of his hand, forces himself to step back. "I'll – I'll see you Saturday."

The end of James' cigarette glows as he nods. "Good to meet you, Cole."

"Yeah, you too," he grins, gets his hand on the door handle and pulls it open, the wall of sound and light and heat almost a relief. He finally feels like he can _breathe_ and it makes no sense but _you were good out there_ and the door falls shut and all he can think of is the smoke curling over James' tongue.

**126**.

"Play me something."

Cole pulls up the track on his laptop, _the_ track, as James and Sophie look on - it's awkward at first, slow start leaving him restless even though it's his, he _knows_ , but he can't help fidgeting, embarrassed, unsure. "I'm just gonna skip ahead," but James stops him with a hand on his arm. "Let it build," and Cole relaxes as much as he can with the ghost of James' touch lingering on his skin. It builds, and builds, and Sophie starts to move, and Cole could kiss her.

The girl can _dance_ , body swaying effortlessly with the beat, hands in her hair, running down her sides, hips dipping low and neither James nor Cole can take their eyes off of her. (She grins up at Cole, winks, turns to James.) "C'mon, baby. Dance with me."

James lets himself be pulled off his chair, hands fitting perfectly along her hips, and starts to sway; he presses in close, fingers sliding to the small of her back as her arms come up around his neck. He's not a natural like Sophie, but with her hands on him he looks like he's exactly where he belongs. She runs her fingers through his short hair, tugging gently and leaning up to whisper in his ear, press her lips to his neck. Cole knows he should look away – feels like he's intruding on something private, something intimate – but they're dancing to _his_ music and he can't miss that, not even for a moment.

The track comes to an end and they pull apart, though James' hand lingers on Sophie's back as she turns to Cole with a smile and then glances up at James approvingly. "You found a good one, James."

He nods and steps forward, offering his hand to Cole – still warm from Sophie's skin, that tempting half-smile and a question Cole doesn't know the answer to in his eyes. "Looks like you're hired."

**127**.

"You can make people dance, and that's half the battle." James gestures a bit too enthusiastically, the drink in his hand threatening to spill over. Sophie flinches, giggles, steadies his arm and presses up along his side, looking at Cole from beneath hooded lids, long lashes.

It's just the three of them, party debris scattered across the room – it went off without a hitch, better than Cole could've hoped, and he feels high on music and _them_  and, okay, maybe more than a bit of weed, but who's counting? And they're both watching him from their place on the couch and he wants, doesn't know what, knows exactly.

But James is talking again, telling him about beating hearts (Cole thinks his might beat right out of his chest, a steady rhythm of _I want, I want_ ) and then Sophie is taking James' hand in her own, pulling him up from the couch, admonishing him with a simple, "Too much talking. Not enough dancing." She reaches for the remote on the table, presses a button and the room fills with sound, a beat that thrums through Cole's nerves and shatters him apart, puts him back together again, and, _oh_.

They're dancing again, but it's not like before. Cole watches them with a pang of – something like envy, but not quite. James is pressed up along Sophie's back, hands all over, their eyes back on Cole, whose fingers white-knuckled on the arms of the chair are the only things keeping him grounded, keeping him sane. ( _Barely_ , he thinks, watching Sophie grind back against James, hearing his sharp intake of breath, seeing the way his fingers tighten in the fabric of her dress, tug it up ever so slightly and oh, her impossibly long legs _can_ get longer.)

She has one hand on the back of James' neck, his lips pressed to her hair, but still that blue gaze is focused on Cole and the desperation is back, that desire to take what he wants, to give James anything – _anything_  – he needs. The beat is intoxicating, electrifying, and Cole can't help but stand. He needs to move, need to feel something other than the anticipation humming through his veins, but as soon as he's on his feet Sophie is smirking, wicked and satisfied, beckoning him closer. _You know you want to_  she mouths, lips curving sensually around the words, and who is Cole to deny it? He takes a step forward as she presses her ass to the front of James' jeans once more, drawing a muted curse, a cut-off moan, and then Cole is _there_ , Sophie's fingers hooked in his belt loops, drawing him in like she knows exactly what it is he wants – and maybe, he's starting to think, maybe she does.

Both of them dancing up on her and all Sophie can do is laugh, eyes sparkling as she wraps her fingers around the nape of Cole's neck, of James', one in front and one behind, coaxing but careful (and _this, this is always the best part, the moment before it starts_ ) but his lips part as he leans in and–

**128 bpm**.

_Fuck that_ , Cole thinks – thinks, then lets himself drown in everything he hadn't let himself want, everything he'd wanted all the same. James' mouth opening beneath his own, hand on his hip and Sophie in between, murmuring her approval with fingers splayed across Cole's chest, long dark hair cascading down James' front. She laughs again, delighted, as James' tongue slips between Cole's lips, breath catching on a moan. "You taste just as fucking good as I thought you would," and Cole turns red to the tips of his ears but James is kissing him again like he never wants to stop and everything else, Sophie's touch and the music and his own damn name, turns to static.

They're still dancing, somehow, still swaying to the beat with a distracted sort of passion, desire and dedication twisted up in a steady rhythm they couldn't escape if they even wanted to try. When they part this time it's Cole who pulls away, needing to breathe, to _see_ James' lips red, cheeks flushed, to think _I did that_ , and still he doesn't quite believe it. (Then James is leaning down, Sophie kissing the taste off his lips, and he simply wonders how the hell this became his life.)

Sophie kisses him next; kisses like she dances, like she was made for it and she knows it. Bites his lip as she pulls back, bites her own and grins up at him oh-so-innocently as she steps out from between them. "Go on, boys. Out of your heads and into your bodies, isn't that the whole appeal of what you do? Time to take your own advice," and James is already stepping forward by the time she takes Cole's hand, urging him closer – to James, to everything Cole's been imagining since that first night at the club, and this time he lets himself give in to the urge.

He sinks to his knees, reaches for James, looks up at him and licks his lips, thumb tracing the outline of his erection through his jeans. James' hand laces into Cole's hair, not tugging, just holding him there, nails blunt against his scalp, breath escaping in a shudder as he tells him, matter-of-fact, so very _James_ , "You're gorgeous, you know that?"

Sophie makes a noise of assent from somewhere in the vicinity of the couch but Cole can't turn to look, can't drag his eyes away from James' as he leans in, presses his lips to the front of his jeans and feels the hand in his hair tighten, listens for that barely-there gasp with a desire that borders on desperation. (James' eyes fall shut, and Cole feels somehow like he's won.)

He pulls away only to unzip his fly, tug down his boxers just enough to take James in his mouth, tongue at the tip of his cock, lips wrapped around the base, trying to taste and take all of him at once. _Sounds have soul_ , he thinks, and if only he could capture the noises falling from James' lips – he'd never need another track, moans dripping from his tongue like the sweetest melody Cole's ever heard. There's only one beating heart that matters right now – maybe two, but Sophie's muted moans tell a story of their own.

Cole traces his tongue along the underside of James' dick, lips curving around his length as he hums, hears James curse somewhere far away, muffled beneath the rush of blood in his ears. He hollows his cheeks, lets his mouth slide further down; pulls back hardly enough to breathe and can't stand it, still wants _more_ , to take everything James has to give.

Hands on his hips, it doesn't take much to bring James close once more, take him between his lips to the back of his throat, sucking as he pulls back and down again. The bass of the nearly forgotten stereo thuds through the floor to his knees, his chest, rhythm building steadily and that, Cole can work with. He sucks harder, takes him deeper, looks up at James just long enough to meet his gaze; sees him tip his head back, lips parting on a moan that ends in Cole's name. The fingers in his hair tighten, and it's warning enough – enough for Cole to sink back down just as James starts to come, mouth flooding with wet heat that threatens to spill from Cole's lips even as he swallows around James' cock once, twice.

A few long moments pass before James' hand slips down to his shoulder, not quite pushing him away but no longer holding him there and Cole sits back, knees just beginning to ache–

And then Sophie's _there_ , on her knees right beside him, turning Cole's face to hers to kiss him, lick the thickness off his tongue and murmur, "You do taste good." James joins them on the floor, looking somehow sated and starving at once, and Sophie glances at him with a devilish grin. " _Both_ of you."

"Fancy meeting you here," Cole comments to James, stupidly, like he's not harder than he's ever been in his life, like he has any idea what the hell he's doing. James smirks right back. "You think I could _stand_ after that?"

Cole's cheeks burn as James turns to Sophie, voice low as he asks, "Did you come?" It's her turn to blush as she nods, hesitates, adds, "...twice."

James catches Cole's gaze, and this time Cole knows exactly what it is he's proposing. One hand drifts to Sophie's knee, fingers warm and deliberate on her skin. "Well. Third time's the charm, right?"

A wicked smile spreads slowly across her face as she lets herself be maneuvered between them, tugging up her dress, and – well. They're not wrong. She falls apart (moaning, trembling, her voice catching on unfinished curses, names a jumbled mess) around James' fingers, Cole's tongue, until she has to push them away, overwhelmed. "Too much," she tells them, half-laughing, half-pleading, covering her face when they start to kiss one another instead, slow and dirty. " _Too much_ ," she insists, "Give a girl a _break,_ won't you?"

"But Sophie, darling," James pulls away long enough to say, teasing but matter-of-fact in a way that matches the debauchery of his shining lips perfectly, "Our guest hasn't come yet."

Sophie's eyes gleam as she turns her gaze upon Cole, wondering aloud, "And how, precisely, would our guest like to change that?"

Somewhere between orgasms two and three the music stopped, and suddenly it's far, far too quiet for Cole's nerves. He misses the clarity of the rhythm, the distraction of the melody, and, oh, they're still waiting for an answer.

"Too quiet?" James murmurs, hand sliding across Cole's hip as he nods, feeling ridiculous and loving the fact that James _knows_. He's still hopelessly turned on, thinking of the weight of James' cock on his tongue, the desperate noises that Sophie made with his head between her legs, but he _wants_ in a way that's all blurred lines and beating hearts and not a clue what to say.

"Soph," James says, not looking away from Cole. "Go get us a beat, yeah?" She doesn't hesitate – kisses each of them quick, stands and pads quietly out of the room on her bare feet. "Where's she going?" Cole asks, eyeing the remote on the coffee table quizzically. "Isn't that—”

"Shhh." James cuts him off with a finger to his lips and a hand on his chest, bearing him back against the floor, hovering ever so slightly above Cole's body. "Now's one of those times you don't need to do anything but listen and _feel_ it. Shut your eyes."

Cole hesitates – he wants to see, wants to watch James do whatever the hell it is he's planning on doing, but he takes one long look at those blue eyes, not backing down, and shuts his own.

"Good," James tells him approvingly, dropping feather-light kisses along his neck down to his collarbone. "Lift," he commands, and Cole sits up just enough for James to tug his shirt over his head. He hears James chuckle softly, run an appreciative hand down his torso; dangerously low, and Cole almost whines when James' hand draws back up, leaving his palm splayed across Cole's chest. "How are you _real_?" James asks, then kisses the ensuing grin from his face with a fire that promises all the _more_ Cole couldn't quite ask for himself.

James runs his thumb over Cole's throat, fingers curled around the side of his neck; he drags them down to Cole's collar once more, to his chest, pressing his lips to Cole's skin as he does so. Everywhere his fingers touch, his mouth follows, the heat of his hands amplified by the scratch of his beard, the stir of his breath. Chest to stomach, each wrist and just below his navel, and James' hands have just made their way to the fly of his jeans when Cole hears Sophie return. She sets something heavy down on the coffee table with a dull thud, commenting, "Well, don't you two make a pretty picture?" and he can _feel_ James smile against his stomach. There's the noise of fingers upon keys, a click, and the sound of James unzipping Cole's jeans is drowned out by the music that fills the room – _Cole's_ music, his laptop, his track, and he nearly sits up, nearly opens his eyes in disbelief. He focuses on James' mouth on his skin, though, the hands working his jeans off his hips, and tries to breathe.

"I skipped ahead a bit," Sophie is saying, the grin evident in her voice. "Sorry. But you guys had a bit of a head start," and as if to punctuate her words James tugs Cole's boxers out of the way, freeing his cock (at _last_ ) with an appreciative noise.

James' hand wraps around him deliberately, his beard rough against Cole's thighs as his lips drag up, teasing, tasting, and Cole could come just like this – just from James' hand on him, thumb catching on the head on each stroke up, wrist twisting at just the right angle as his hand slides back down. "You wanna join us, baby?" Cole hears, _feels_ James ask; a moment of hesitation, anticipation, and Sophie hums, tone dark and sweet as she responds, "I think I want to dance."

James' hand stays curled around the base of Cole's cock as he lifts himself up to press a kiss below Cole's ear, whisper, "Open your eyes."

Cole obliges all too eagerly, gaze landing first on Sophie, who's moving to his track once again – just as sensual as before, if not more, body loose and relaxed, the night's activities written across the movement of her hips, the lazy smirk she turns upon James and Cole as her eyes drift to James' hand.

James starts to stroke once more as he moves back down Cole's body, licking him from root to tip – Cole's head falls back with a groan, because _finally_ , because he still can't believe this is happening, because it's his own damn music thudding through his limbs, his chest, and it feels – it feels—

"I can't," he manages, covering his face with his hands, not pushing James away but not making any move to encourage him either. "This just feels so—“

"Amazing, right?" and that's it exactly, it feels _good_ and Cole can't help but wonder what that says about him, if it makes him narcissistic beyond belief or...

"C'mon," James says, reassuring, and it's so hard for Cole to focus on his voice when he's, well, so hard, but, "look at me," and Cole does, thrills at the sight of James’ red, red mouth, tongue darting out to lap at the precome gathering at the tip of Cole's cock, fingers stroking him relentlessly. "Look at _her,_ " he says next, not taking his eyes from Cole's as he tilts his head toward Sophie. "Dancing, fucking...it's not so different." ( _He's right_ , Cole thinks, eyes following the lines of Sophie's body as she moves.) "If our music doesn't make us want to dance – to _fuck_ – how's it supposed to work for anyone else?"

His mouth sinks down on Cole's cock twice, three times, perfectly in rhythm and Cole moans, hands moving almost unconsciously to fist in James' hair. He wants to hold him there when James pulls back, but it's only a moment, just long enough for him to ask, "Yeah?" and Cole's no sooner managed a breathy "Yeah" in response than James' tongue is back, lips around the head, around the base, timing each motion flawlessly. ( _128 bpm,_ Cole thinks from somewhere outside himself, gasping as James' fingers slip lower still, pressing to his entrance, asking permission. "Yes," Cole hears himself say, "Yes, fuck, James, please...")

James moans around his cock in response to the desperation in his voice, pulling off just to slip two fingers between his lips, getting them as wet as he can before sinking back down on Cole's cock. He hits the back of James' throat just as the first finger presses in and it's so much, too much, fingers flexing in James' hair because he doesn't know what else to do; a second finger has him right on the edge, but it's what follows that pushes him over. True to form, taste follows touch: James' tongue replaces his fingers, then both at once, filling him in every possible way, pulling out and pressing in deep, over and over. He brushes over Cole's prostate just as the music swells and finally, _finally_  Cole lets go.

He trembles through his orgasm, every nerve thrumming with adrenaline, arousal, a beat that feels as much a part of him as his heart (finally slowing, letting him breathe). He extricates his fingers from James' hair with a sheepish grin, groaning at the mess on his stomach, the marks left by James' tongue and teeth across his chest, hips.

"Sorry," James says, following Cole's gaze, not sounding sorry at all. "I get a little...enthusiastic sometimes."

"S'true," Sophie confirms, tugging down the neck of her dress to reveal a matching mark along the curve of her breast. She's flushed, and not just from the dancing - were she not so exhausted, perhaps...

As it is, she moves to join them on the floor once more, nudging James with her shoulder. "Go find something to clean Cole up with," she scolds; he sighs and moves to stand, but she adds, "But kiss me first," winking at Cole over James' shoulder. James obliges and Cole groans again, thrilling at the brush of James' still-wet fingers across the skin of his thigh.

"You're so much fun," Sophie tells Cole once James has disappeared. "So responsive. Maybe it's just such a part of what you do, performing and all..." She catches sight of the look on Cole's face and hastily adds, "Not that I think you're acting! Just...good at showing what you want. What you like. I don't know," she finishes, uncertain, then looks at him sideways, grins slyly, amends, "But I do know it's really hot."

Cole blushes – these two, so straightforward, so open, so beautiful, they really _are_ going to be the death of him – and then James is back, damp washcloth in hand. He hands it to Cole, watches as he wipes himself clean, gestures for him to set it aside and leans in to kiss him, deep and purposeful. He keeps his eyes shut when he draws back, a satisfied smile playing over his lips. "Well, that was certainly a party to remember," and Cole thinks back to that alley, wonders how the hell this all happened so fast, sees those blue eyes sparkle with amusement as they meet his own and decides all that matters is that it _did_. 

He reaches for Sophie's wrist, pressing two fingers to the pulse point there; does the same to James, feels it stutter as he strokes steadily across his skin. It's quiet again, but this time the silence feels full of promise, of potential. He's listening to the real world, and for once it's not the crickets of the Valley or the same inexplicably overrated songs being played sixty times a day. It's three hearts beating in unison, a rhythm with no melody but the sound of their breathing and Cole can't wait to turn it upside down, inside out, bring it up song by song and hope like hell they wind up back here every time.


End file.
